Falling Down (Ashes, Ashes)
by KShade
Summary: AU Redeemed. Spoilers up to the first two-ish chapters. Lost in her own guilt, Zoey seals herself away, and both she and Stark suffer for it. Yeah, officer, I realize that Zoey thinks she's an island," he said desperately, "but she's not. Killing her is—well, it's gonna kill me too," he said sadly, looking older than he was. "And I just want to talk to her."


Falling Down (ashes, ashes)

A darker AU of the start of Redeemed. The pairing is Stark/Zoey, one I've always been reluctant to pursue, because I've honestly always been more for the villains, but the start of Redeemed gave me an intriguing idea. This is my reaper!Au. I might make a series of one-shots. It's a pretty bleak series, so I'm not sure the demand will be there, but… and a better explanation of what a reaper is will be in the dialogue at the end.

**All of my warnings (and hopefully no spoilers): REDEEMED SPOILERS IN HERE, DO NOT EVEN READ THE REST OF THE WARNINGS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS OF REDEEMED. Ah, how i've just abused all-caps. It's like being a kid again. Major character death, suicide (if you see the scene in chapter one as that, if not kind of a death penalty, mostly self-imposed,) angst, probably swearing and, as always, my adding to the House of Night canon. This is very AU, but hopefully not too OOC.**

_My insides all turned to ash, so slow_

_and blew away as I collapsed, so cold_

_a black wind took you away, from sight_

_and held Darkness over day, that night_

_—Valentine's Day, Linkin Park_

Empathy wasn't a trait Stark particularly associated with jailers, but Marx had it in excess. He seemed so helpless, explaining how Zoey had essentially told him not to let anyone who could save her in. He looked like he was trapped in a corner as much as Stark felt like he was. Eyes shut, "What does that even mean?" he asked Marx, "She killed a couple guys. On TV, on those forensics shows, with her confessing and cooperating, that would get her like, fifty years, maybe. She's a vamp, she has that kind of time. It was an accident. You can't kill her for an accident," he plead, feeling all he'd fought for slipping away.

Marx shook his head, "I can't," the detective said, shaking his head, face creased with difficult choices, "but Zoey can." He sat down, gesturing for the warrior to do the same. Stark stayed standing, refusing to give him that. "She was the one who told me no vamp was to get near her cell, Stark."

Stark felt blood welling in his throat, an extension of hers. This wouldn't kill him but in the most metaphoric ways. From the inside. Looking back at the past months of his life, Stark couldn't believe what he saw. All of it was Zoey. He died with Zoey, and came back to find Zoey, before sleeping with Zoey, and becoming her warrior, almost dying for her, twice, and actually doing it once. Stark closed his eyes, remembering the hanging tree, and the mirror, and losing her. If he'd been awake that night, they could have vented a different way. She could have talked to him or _not talked_, something, anything.

And despite that seed of self-blame, he was also mad at her. How could Zoey do this? Didn't she realize it when she'd shattered, that killing her was killing him? When they'd tied their lives together at the tree, didn't she realize that made them, well, tied? "Yeah, officer, I realize that Zoey thinks she's an island," he said desperately, "but she's not. Killing her is—well, it's gonna kill me to," he said sadly, looking older than he was. "And I just want to talk to her."

* * *

Zoey paced her cell, knowing it wouldn't be long now. "I'm sorry, Stark," she mused at a crack in her wall, "I've been only pain in your life. If I wasn't almost getting you killed, I was cheating on you. You deserved a lot better," she said quietly, shutting her eyes as a cough wracked her body, and she wasn't sure if she heard Stark mentally, through their bond, or as a coping mechanism, but he was begging her not to. He told her this would kill him too. Bloody tears spilled from her eyes. She couldn't live without hurting him, why would dying be any different?

"I'm s-sorry, Stark," she blubbered, snot-crying like she always had when she got upset, "I'm sorry for hurting you. It'll be over soon, okay?" she pleaded for his forgiveness, for a fitting end to the life they'd lead.

"Don't do it, Zoey," he begged, "it was the stone, or me, or someone, it's not all your fault, and you shouldn't—please don't do this," he plead, in the back of her mind. She could visualize him there, the way he was crying right now, coughing up a bit of blood. Was she killing him?

"Stark, I have to," she plead with him, "I'm out of control, and I'm a danger to you, and everyone in Tulsa," her eyes shut, stopping the tears, as she realized the one last thing she'd have to endure. "James Stark, I love you, and I don't want to hurt you, please just trust me." Sobbing bloody tears, weakening with every wracking sob, Zoey forced herself to draw the circle once more, the elemental energy prolonging, but not postponing her death. It gave Stark hope, enough hope that she hated what she was going to do.

"James Stark, the months we spent together were the best of my life. You were the best warrior an ersatz priestess could have dreamed of, and that's why I have to do this. I hope I find you again the next time," and then, without hesitation, she called Spirit to her, and she thanked the element that had always been the closest to her, and begged it to release stark from his oath.

She could hear his screaming from the pain of a severed oath. she cried, and felt herself weaken. She would die to ease his pain, but she couldn't, not anymore, so she just said, in her last, rattling gasp of a breath "I love you, Stark."

The warrior lay, curled in a u-shape in the detective's office. Zoey forswore him. In the end, Stark hadn't saved her. She hadn't let him. Stark felt dead inside. He stood up slowly, looking the detective in the eyes, "She's dead," he said softly, sobbing so hard he was worried he'd rupture a lung.

* * *

The next weeks whirled by for Stark. They were growing desperate, no one else could wield spirit, and the circle was ripped apart, almost irreparably. Neferet won, a surprise to none, because after even Kalona was killed trying, well, less people wanted to try. Stark's world was grey, it was all grey. He didn't care, win or lose. Good on Damien for being able to keep going, but he wasn't like the other boy. Stark just wanted the entire universe to stop.

And, of course, it's always when things are hopeless that something incredible happens. In Stark's case, nothing short of a miracle, though it—she, came from the opposite place as he'd expect one from. He'd been trying to sleep. Eyes wide open, looking up at the ceiling, as pathetic as to have Zoey's scarf—the cream-coloured one he'd tied with his plaid—beside him in the bed they used to share.

"Stark?" a voice came, hesitantly at the door. He heard a_ swoosh_, like wings folding, so he didn't roll over. He mistook everything for her voice these days, so he'd stopped turning around. He had to let go of the delusion that she was coming back.

"I know it's not you," he said, still facing the wall, "what do you want?" He was sure it was help. The newly impotent dream-team needed an archer, and was pretty sure he gave zero fucks about his own life anyways. he didn't care. they could wait until nightfall.

"Stark?" he heard again, almost like she was crying, "I'm sorry," the voice added, "Please, just look at me!" it begged, clouded over with tears and pain. Stark cringed, trying not to give in .The grief counsellor had told him that it was perfectly normal to wish a person was back, even to think they were sometimes, but the more he indulged those little episodes of minor schizophrenia, the harder it would be to let go, and ever have a normal life.

Reluctantly, after a few minutes of this torture, he rolled over, expecting anyone but who he saw. He hair was shorter, but still as dark and silky as he remembered it, though all the tattoos were now black, dead as she was. She was paler than he ever remembered seeing her, no blood flowing to the pale lip she was biting nervously.

Really, the big difference was the black and red wings that sprouted out of her back, and looked caked with something black. Her eyes too, those were different. But he'd know her anywhere. This was a schizophrenic delusion, but it was the happiest fucking moment he'd had in a long time, so he wasn't looking the gift horse in the mouth. "Goddess, Zoey," he ran to her, taking her into his arms, and stifling tears badly.

She crumpled, small wings wrapping around him, tears in her crimson eyes. "I'm- i'm sorry," she said weakly, "I-I shouldn't have forsworn you. I didn't realize how badly that was going to hurt you. I'm not even supposed to be here. Death himself told me I wasn't supposed to talk to anyone from my other life. B-but I had to come apologize, cause I hadn't wanted to hurt you."

Stark stopped even trying to hold back the tears as he felt her there, in his arms, heard that she'd come to apologize. He shook his head, not even having words, just needing to feel that she was there, and that he wasn't going insane. She didn't have a heartbeat.

As if sensing the question, she nodded, "yeah, I'm dead. It wasn't like when you and Stevie Rae and the other reds died. I, uh, because I did it, I wound up somewhere else. See, you start off in an egg, until the cranky guy with the sword breaks it, and you fall out. Then, he explains that because you weren't supposed to die, and you did it to yourself, you have to atone, by collecting the souls that pass on. And there's a lot… a lot that happens after that. You choose a name that reflects your new nature, and then these grow. Thanatos—not our Thanatos, said I was out for hours. flight training was even harder, and then the mirror," she shuddered in stark's arms.

Stark stroked her hair, asking her carefully what had been in the mirror. The girl in his arms shuddered, "I saw you dead, Stark. And it was my fault. I had to come here to make- make sure," she stammered out, losing composure as she talked. "O-once I broke the mirror, they assigned me to a post halfway across the world, but I traded with someone else, who got Tulsa and preferred Europe. I'm gonna get in trouble for coming back, but I had to see that you were-"

"Stark!" came a panicked okie voice that caused Zoey to wince. She knew she couldn't stay, but she wanted to. "Stark, it's Neferet. She's about to take Skye. The High Council even tried to stop her, and-" she cut off there, not wanting to dwell on their fate.

Stark looked at Zoey, begging her with his eyes. "Are you with me?" he implored.

She looked around, before her wings spread. "Yes."


End file.
